


Fire Hazard

by windfallswest



Series: Love or War [14]
Category: Marvel, Marvel 616, New Warriors
Genre: Couch Cuddles, I'm just a fandom klepto, M/M, Nightmares, Shower Sex, Thunderstorms, don't actually do both of those at once, not really a crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 16:08:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10441617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windfallswest/pseuds/windfallswest
Summary: That isn't the usual way we land a plane, no.





	

Vance was reminded that he could have had Jake Waffles move the mountain to drop him off in Houston—or what was the exact range on the teleport, anyway?—when he entered the thundercloud. 

"Juliett Tango Charlie, do you see them yet?"

It was about a two hour trip from New York to Houston if Vance came in at just under the speed of sound. Robbie wanted to stick close to Elvin, and Mark had finally turned up again, with a hickey the size of an egg on his neck. Vance had been working all week, learning the ropes at the AAC and catching up with (read: taking shit from) the kids at the community centre where he volunteered in Bed-Stuy. He'd barely heard from Kaine since they'd gotten back. He'd decided to fly down on his own for the weekend, no big deal. 

Vance always felt it was more polite to actually file a flight plan on longer journeys, and especially at night. He was both smaller and faster than most VFR aircraft, and it cut down on needless panic.

Above Houston, the thunderstorms that had been building on the radar all evening had finally broken. Not ideal, but it happened. The problem was the Boeing 777 flying up from South America that had tried to beat the storm, which it hadn't done. Instead, it had lost an engine. The tower had contacted Vance for help, which was after all one of the reasons he bothered filing a flight plan.

"Negative. Can you be a bit more specific, Tower? I'm not Iron Man; I'm navigating by Samsung Galaxy up here."

"Juliett Tango Charlie, turn left heading two-eight-five, descend with caution to five thousand."

"Left to two-eight-five, descending with caution," Vance confirmed. 

Inside the thundercloud, it was dark and gusty. They were still high enough that things were partially frozen, whipping sleet and hail at his shield. Vance actually was navigating by his phone, careful to keep it and himself protected from the elements. He flicked a light pulse of telekinesis out in front of him like a bat waiting for an echo. 

_There._

"Houston approach, Juliett Tango Charlie, have contact, descending."

It was a ways ahead of him yet, but as he reached out after the object he'd felt briefly, it did seem to be large and plane-shaped. Vance shed altitude more rapidly now and adjusted his heading, all the while trying to keep his fix without accidentally pulling anything off the plane. It would be a bad idea to start jerking it around before he was closer in and the pilots knew he was there.

"Roger, Juliett Tango Charlie. Switching Sierra Romeo four-one-four to your frequency."

"Roger, tower."

"Sierra Hotel Juliett Tango Charlie, Sierra Romeo four-one-four. State intentions," said a slightly edgy British voice. A native English speaker, good; that would help communications.

"Four-one-four, Juliett Tango Charlie directly below you. Request your turbulence penetration speed."

Vance looked up at the shadowy fuselage. The plane was big. Vance had done emergency landings before, but the plane was _really damn big_. _Not as big as a spaceship,_ Vance reminded himself. And the plane wasn't losing structural integrity or on the brink of exploding, either. If it weren't for the thunderstorm, this wouldn't be a problem at all.

"Juliett Tango Charlie, turbulence penetration two-five-zero knots. State intentions." The pilot was definitely sounding more than a little nervous.

"Four-one-four, Reduce speed, report two-five-zero knots. Then I'll take over. We'll stop and come in to land vertically."

There was a moment of dead silence on Vance's com.

"Roger, Juliett Tango Charlie. Slowing to two-five-zero knots. I hope you know what you're doing."

_Just not where I'm going,_ Vance did not say. Well, the plane had radar, and so did the airport. He just had to keep the plane from crashing. 

There passed a tense few minutes while gusts rocked them. Vance had plastered himself face-down to the belly of the plane to avoid getting hit in the head as it bucked in the turbulence, or worse, losing contact again in the thick, pitchy clouds. 

Their airspeed continued to fall. Thunder was deafening from this close in. Vance had never actually been struck by lightning, although he'd come up against the occasional electric super-villain. He had his fingers crossed they wouldn't attract a bolt, because electric strikes were one of the most painful things he'd ever felt through his telekinesis. 

It seemed like an eternity before SR 414's pilot came back on the line, although objectively Vance knew the plane couldn't have been going that much faster in these conditions. "Juliett Tango Charlie, four-one-four, speed two-five-zero knots."

Vance already had a grip on the plane. He secured it, preparing to take over the lift and thrust.

"Roger, four-one-four. Juliett Tango Charlie will maintain your airspeed and altitude as you decelerate. I have control." 

"Juliett Tango Charlie...you have control," the pilot said tightly.

"Thank you, four-one-four. You're doing fine. Request navigational assistance to Houston, I am VFR."

"Navi—oh, god. All right. Roger, Juliett Tango Charlie. Four-one-four slowing speed. Turn left relative bearing three-three-eight. Eleven kilometres out from Houston."

"Roger wilco. Houston approach, Juliett Tango Charlie. Request clearance to approach on current heading."

"Juliet Tango Charlie, Houston approach. All other flights diverted. You are cleared."

"Roger, Houston."

"Juliett Tango Charlie, four-one-four slowing engine speed, airspeed...increasing...to two-six-five."

"Four-one-four, Juliett Tango Charlie. Airspeed correct; I have you now. Prepare to descend."

That bump in speed had come from Vance taking a running start, just to be one the safe side. It was important not to fall below turbulence penetration speed before they were out of the worst of the storm. Even so, it was all he could do to keep them level. Vance listened tensely for the pilot's directions and status updates, letting him deal with air traffic control, practically blind inside the cloud.

It was scarcely better when they broke through. Wind continued to whip sheets of rain through the air, splashing on his shield; but Vance could glimpse the pattern of IAH's runway lights on the ground below. 

"Houston, Juliett Tango Charlie has visual on the airport. Slowing to land."

"Roger, Juliett Tango Charlie. Cleared to land."

"Cleared to land, Juliett Tango Charlie. Four-one-four, do you copy?" Vance asked.

"Juliett Tango Charlie, four-one-four copies. Pre-landing checks completed."

The landing gear was down, but Vance had no desire to try for anything like a normal landing. Having what was probably two hundred tons of airplane slamming down on top of him in this lashing rain was a less than appealing proposition. 

Vance was dumping as much speed as he dared, but they would still need to turn and come back around for another pass before landing. The plane's captain was in his ear, counting down their speed and altitude for him. He was doing a decent job of not having a panic attack, considering his plane was now stopped in mid-air with no visible means of support.

Vance lined up between the lights of a runway and moved up to face the nose. "Four-one-four, Juliett Tango Charlie, landing."

Vance could hear the pilot taking a deep breath. "Roger, Juliett Tango Charlie."

He took them down the last few thousand feet slowly, watching the plane and the ground. With a hundred or so feet left to go, he paused to adjust their descent relative to all the emergency vehicles waiting for them below. When the wheels on the landing gear were maybe a dozen feet from the tarmac, a bolt of lightning leaped up and jolted through him. 

Vance fumbled the plane, almost dropping it. From where he suddenly found himself sprawled on the runway, he hastily righted the plane and set it down. 

"Houston Ground, Sierra Romeo Four-One-Four off runway two-six Lima at eight Romeo," he heard over his ear com. 

"Roger, four-one-four," Houston ground control said. "Can you taxi?"

"Houston, four-one-four, no further damage. Waiting for everyone to clear the runway. Juliett Tango Charlie, are you all right down there?"

Vance pressed the heel of his hand to his throbbing forehead. _Please, not another concussion._ But the pain seemed to be mostly inside his head. "Four-one-four, Juliette Tango Charlie. I'm fine, just a bit shaken up," Vance reassured the man. "Sorry about that. Clearing runway now. Well done, captain—what's your name?"

"What? Oh. Martin. Captain Martin Crieff. Thank you, by the way. Are you quite sure you're all right?" 

A group of EMTs had finally nerved themselves up to approach him. Unsteadily, Vance climbed to his feet and waved them off. He wobbled over to meet them at the edge of the runway, where what was starting to look like every emergency vehicle in the airport was pulling up.

"I'll be fine," Vance told both Captain Crieff and the EMTs.

Vance was relieved to see the plane taxi away under its own power. At length, he persuaded the EMTs to let him go. He was just about to make his escape when a reporter, presumably having finished with the pilots already, caught up with him. He was mostly identifiable by the soggy notebook he was scribbling on with a gnawed-looking red pen; otherwise, the name tag and gold buttons on his sleeves made him look more like a bell hop.

"Nice entrance. Very Superman."

Vance, whose head was still pounding, winced. "I'm not very Jewish, but I _am_ Jewish enough that I'd never call myself Superman. Just for future reference."

"Duly noted. Fox Maharassa, Houston Chronicle, superhero desk."

"Really?" Vance asked. "I didn't think Houston had that much powered activity."

Maharassa deflated a little. "Well, not exactly. I'm sure someone will buy the story, though. But we have the Scarlet Spider now, and the spooky green girl, plus that mountain that keeps appearing and disappearing in the bay. With mutants back and the Inhuman population growing, Houston's sure to see more weirdness. I figure if I'm out here first, covering stories no one else has, that's my way back on a newspaper."

The rain was plastering his dark hair to his coffee brown skin, and when he swiped at it to clear it from his eyes, it stuck up in a really unfortunate sort of way. Vance was tired, his head hurt, he was going to have to fly through the storm again to reach Kaine's apartment, and between the lightning strike and letting the EMTs examine him, he'd managed to get soaked through himself. But there was something in Maharassa's earnestness and hopeful, if sharp-toothed, half-smile that made telling him to buzz off seem like kicking a puppy.

Vance sighed, visions of a hot shower and warm, grumpy boyfriend receding before his eyes. With his luck, Kaine was probably out anyway. "All right. You have some questions for me?"

"Yes! All right!" Maharassa pumped his fist. "Which one are you, again?" 

 

Vance used his telekinesis to open Kaine's living room window, flew inside, and jerked it shut before the weather could follow him in. Kaine hadn't answered his phone or his com, so either he'd left them behind or he was ignoring them. 

Vance turned and looked around. It wasn't a big apartment. He didn't see Kaine in the kitchen or living room. Flicking on the bedroom light, Vance put his wallet, phone, and ear com on the nightstand and stripped out of his sodden costume. It was only then that he noticed the bathroom light was on. The sound of the shower running had been masked by the torrential downpour outside.

Vance crossed the bedroom to the bathroom door, prudently knocking firmly on the door frame before he entered so as to be out of reach of Kaine's sometimes twitchy reflexes. Kaine stuck his head out past the shower curtain, saw it was him, and pulled it back in.

Showering during a thunderstorm was not actually a smart or safe thing to do, even in buildings where the electrical circuits were reliably grounded; but Vance had survived one lightning strike already tonight. A hot shower was worth taking his chances.

Especially when Kaine backed him up against the wall, bit down his chest, and went to his knees. Without any further preamble, he slid his mouth over Vance's stiffening cock. 

Vance's head hit the tiled wall. He closed his eyes against the spray and abandoned himself to Kaine's ministrations. He cradled Kaine's head, stroking along his jaw and cheekbones. Kaine's hands were wrapped around his hips, deliberately not stopping the helpless little thrusts that worked Vance's cock farther down his throat.

Kaine's mouth pulled back for a gasped breath. He sucked on the head, using his tongue now. Vance moaned, the sound bouncing off the old tiles in their crumbling grout. 

Kaine slid one hand back to squeeze his ass and guide Vance's leg up over his shoulder. He dropped down to lick at Vance's balls, then kept going back until his mouth was on his hole.

"Oh. _Oh,_ " Vance gasped, water trickling into his open mouth.

Kaine hitched his leg up farther and ran his tongue around the tight pucker of muscle. Vance felt himself flexing involuntarily, his hard cock twitching under the spray. 

Kaine's tongue wriggled its way into him despite the slightly awkward angle. Vance whimpered as he licked and sucked at the rim. He reached for his cock, desperate. 

Kaine pinched his ass, and Vance took the hint, fist clenching shut and banging the wall in frustration. He'd have been swearing if he could have made his jaw move. 

It was remarkable; from in here, the sound of the shower blocked out all but the most aggressive grumblings from the storm outside. Kaine's mouth disappeared, then was replaced a moment later by fingers. 

Kaine seemed determined to devour him. He swallowed Vance down again and kept going until his nose was mashed against Vance's stomach. His mouth was as hot as the water, and his throat rumbled and swallowed around Vance's cock. Kaine's fingers rocked in a steady, confident rhythm against his prostate.

Vance squeezed the back of his neck to warn him, and then he was coming down Kaine's throat as Kaine sucked his orgasm out of him and didn't let up until he was trying to draw his other leg up in an instinctive effort to protect his sensitive cock and whining for mercy. 

With torturous slowness, Kaine slid his fingers out and drew back. His hands were all that kept Vance on his feet. Kaine pinned him bodily to the shower wall, kindly holding him upright. 

"I missed you, too," Vance murmured against his lips before kissing him dizzy. "What do you want?" he asked, although they were already rubbing against each other, Kaine's erection gliding slickly over his stomach. 

Vance let himself be turned around, his front pressed into the cool tiles. Kaine ducked his head to kiss the base of his neck between his shoulder blades. He ran his thumb between Vance's cheeks to his hole, pushing the tip of it in experimentally. 

There was the sound of him webbing the lube from where it sat on the rim of the tub. _Oh, good._ Vance was still a bit fuzzy to be using telekinesis. He let himself relax. 

Kaine nudged his legs wider, and what was prodding at Vance's hole wasn't more fingers. It was a burning stretch as Kaine's greased dick opened him up. He went slow and seated himself as deeply as he could. Vance could feel his ribs expanding as he breathed. His arms came up to cover Vance's, braced on the wall. 

Kaine interlaced their fingers; Vance gripped back. He felt a moan start from deep in Kaine's chest as he began to move. The sensation of being stretched was so much more intense than usual, although Kaine had used enough lube for his shallow thrusts to glide easily. 

Kaine buried his face in Vance's neck. Most of the time, he needed to reach out when Kaine was fucking him from behind, using his telekinesis to maintain a more intimate contact. This, though, felt more like an embrace. Kaine covered him, touching him everywhere, inside and out. 

Vance didn't think he was going to come again; it was too much in an incredible, time-stretching way, where his conscious mind was lost in an onslaught of sensation. Kaine was making sounds; but if any of them were words, they were too muffled to understand. Vance held onto his hands, giving him an anchor as his own orgasm swept him away.

The hot water had already lasted a lot longer than it usually did, probably because no one else in the building was stupid enough to risk using it in the storm; but it was finally running out. Vance turned off the tap without letting go of Kaine's hands. 

Eventually, Kaine stood back and released him. When Vance turned back around, Kaine kissed him, then handed him a towel. 

They were in bed with the lights off before Vance realised Kaine hadn't actually said anything to him all night. He lay awake, wondering if that was just par for the laconic course or something he should be worried about—although he obviously _was_ worrying about it, not that they hadn't understood each other perfectly well—

Out in the bedroom, the storm was louder. Kaine must have been out patrolling himself, given the shower and the way he was sacked out now. He had an arm and a leg thrown over Vance, who was lying on his stomach as usual. 

Despite his various exertions, Vance couldn't seem to fall asleep. He regarded Kaine's face, scarcely visible in the dark despite how close it lay on the pillow. As he watched, it creased into an expression of distress; Kaine's arm drew in convulsively, and he started awake.

It took a moment for his wildly staring eyes to register his surroundings, Vance in bed with him. His body language clearly dared Vance to say anything. But the tension eased, and he let his arm relax into the bed between them. They both closed their eyes again and waited for sleep.

The next time, Vance was dozing, sort of, although Kaine was twitching in his sleep. There was a crack of thunder, and he sat bolt upright with a shout.

"Nightmares?" Vance mumbled sympathetically, half into his pillow. Vance had figured this was one of the reasons Kaine was almost always gone when he woke up in the morning. Usually, Vance was a much sounder sleeper, although not so sound as to habitually sleep through all this. Kaine growled, rolling away and curling up in a ball. 

He didn't stay that way, shifting and thrashing restlessly in his sleep. He was grouchier every time he came awake. Vance had given up even trying. He stared at Kaine's form, faintly visible to his dark-adapted eyes, waiting for the next signs of nightmare and wondering if he ought to wake Kaine up before it could get going. His hesitant comforting touches had been shrugged off, but he couldn't just lie here, watching this.

"...are you watching me sleep?" Kaine asked suspiciously, lying sleeplessly on his side.

"Just because I can't sleep doesn't mean I have the energy to go flying all around the city," Vance replied muzzily. Kaine had a habit of shaking out his nerves on the street. He had clearly been rained out too soon.

"Lazy," Kaine mumbled.

The noise Vance made in reply didn't exactly smack of protest. He examined Kaine's shadowy face, thoughts grinding slowly. Vance wasn't sure what to make of his staying in bed tonight. Maybe it was just the weather. Maybe he did want company, on some level he was unable or unwilling to articulate.

"C'mon." Vance sat up and tugged on Kaine's arm. 

"Wha?"

"This isn't working," Vance explained.

"Well, I'm sorry if I'm disturbing your beauty sleep," said Kaine sulkily.

"Will you stop being so dramatic?" Vance wondered if Spider-Man was this high-maintenance.

He covered a yawn with the back of his hand, prodding Kaine upright and dragging him out into the living room. Vance flopped down on the couch, pulling Kaine after him. Kaine followed his lead, although he still seemed puzzled. Vance tugged on him again until he sank down onto the wonderfully soft cushions and stretched out with him. Vance wriggled his arms around Kaine and levitated the television remote so he could see the buttons to push without letting go.

"What are we doing?" Kaine asked, nonplussed.

"Cuddling," Vance said firmly, turning the television on. "It works better under a blanket, but it's not cold enough we'll need one." 

"...I don't think I've ever cuddled before." Kaine tasted the word suspiciously.

Vance looked down at him, but Kaine's eyes were fixed on the late news. All he could do was hold Kaine a little tighter and not let go. 

The news was showing his descent with the 777 over an interview with the Swiss Air pilot, Crieff. The man was a bit rattled, but not obviously injured.

"Well, it really would be just my luck that we'd lose an engine without enough fuel to divert around the storm," Captain Crieff said self-deprecatingly, although he looked somewhere between elation and nervous collapse. "Bloody big storms you have around here."

"But luckily, you had some help coming in."

"That isn't the usual way we land a plane, no." Crieff chuckled nervously. _Adrenaline,_ Vance judged. "But you're hardly going to want to slam two hundred twenty tonnes of aircraft down on a chap at a hundred sixty knots an hour, and in these runway conditions. He did keep us fairly level. Well, right up until the end bit there. And to be fair, I suppose that if you or I were struck by lightning, we'd have dropped the plane entirely."

The bulk of the plane blocked Vance himself from the camera during the actual lightning strike. On the balance, he was just as glad. 

"...Did you actually fly in carrying a plane over your head?" Kaine asked.

"Only for the last couple miles," Vance said. He changed the channel.

"And got hit by lighting."

"Yeah." Maybe that was why he couldn't sleep, some sort of residual charge.

Vance clicked around for a while before he came across a Mythbusters marathon. They settled in to watch a series of increasingly ridiculous explosions and vehicular abuse. Kaine was a little heavy leaning back against his chest, but they were at enough of an angle for the couch to take most of their weight. Their legs slotted together in a comfortable tangle.

Kaine's head was tucked neatly under Vance's chin. He was as bristly as Vance had anticipated, and his hair was almost long enough for Vance to get his fingers into. 

"Having fun back there?" Kaine mumbled.

Vance hummed, still rubbing little circles into his scalp. "You know, it's my birthday tomorrow. Today," he corrected himself. 

That was part of the reason he'd been so determined to make it down. Vance was liking his new job, but at the end of the day, this was where he wanted to be. 

"You're not about to ask me to come to a party, are you?" 

"I feel like we just had it," Vance said honestly. Right now, even his aches were self-satisfied sex aches. 

Kaine smirked. Vance tweaked his ear. On the television, the team stopped screwing around with metronomes and started trying to herd cats.

Vance started chuckling. Kaine craned his neck to stare over his shoulder at him. Vance cleared his throat, but immediately burst out laughing again. He pressed his smile against the top of Kaine's head, trying to control himself.

"Sorry," he said. "It's just—space. Isn't this exactly what space was like?"

Onscreen, a cat streaked out of the target pen and across the enclosure. 

"That was you," Kaine said.

Vance's grin stretched wider. Laughter bubbled up again in his chest, and Kaine joined him, chuckling, while two grown men chased cats across Astroturf wielding umbrellas.

**Author's Note:**

> Wars do not end wars any more than an extraordinarily large conflagration does away with the fire hazard.  
> —Henry Ford, _My Life and Work_


End file.
